It was ten o’clock and the besiegers suddenly withdrew a short distance for parley among themselves. Outside the sun shone brightly; and the sky was never bluer. In this moment of respite, while we made ready for what further the day might bring forth, I climbed up to the finished tower to make sure we knew the enemy’s full strength. I could see over the tree-tops, beyond the chapel tower, the roofs of St. Agatha’s. There, at least, was peace. And in that moment, looking over the black wood, with the snow lying upon the ice of the lake white and gleaming under the sun, I felt unutterably lonely and heart-sick, and tired of strife. It seemed a thousand years ago that I had walked and talked with the child Olivia; and ten thousand years more since the girl in gray at the Annandale station had wakened in me a higher aim, and quickened a better impulse than I had ever known. Larry roared my name through the lower floors. I went down with no wish in my heart but to even matters with Pickering and be done with my grandfather’s legacy for ever. “The sheriff and Morgan have gone back toward the lake,” reported Larry. “They’ve gone to consult their chief,” I said. “I wish Pickering would lead his own battalions. It would give social prestige to the fight.” “Bah, these women!” And Larry tore the corner from a cartridge box. Stoddard, with a pile of clubs within reach, lay on his back on the long leather couch, placidly reading his Greek testament. Bates, for the first time since my arrival, seemed really nervous and anxious. He pulled a silver watch from his pocket several times, something I had never seen him do before. He leaned against the table, looking strangely tired and worn, and I saw him start nervously as he felt Larry’s eyes on him. “I think, sir, I’d better take another look at the outer gates,” he remarked to me quite respectfully. His disturbed air aroused my old antagonism. Was he playing double in the matter? Did he seek now an excuse for conveying some message to the enemy? “You’ll stay where you are,” I said sharply, and I found myself restlessly fingering my revolver. “Very good, sir,”—and the hurt look in his eyes touched me. “Bates is all right,” Larry declared, with an emphasis that was meant to rebuke me. CHAPTER XXVI THE FIGHT IN THE LIBRARY “They’re coming faster this time,” remarked Stoddard. “Certainly. Their general has been cursing them right heartily for retreating without the loot. He wants his three-hundred-thousand-dollar autograph collection,” observed Larry. “Why doesn’t he come for it himself, like a man?” I demanded. “Like a man, do you say!” ejaculated Larry. “Faith and you flatter that fat-head!”